


In the DI's Office

by TheSleeplessWriter



Series: An Agreement of Sorts [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, Corporal Punishment, Interns & Internships, M/M, Mycroft's Meddling, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Spanking, Stern John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 11:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12934431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSleeplessWriter/pseuds/TheSleeplessWriter
Summary: Sherlock, moody and irritated at his brother, takes it out on the new intern. John isn't exactly pleased.





	In the DI's Office

Sherlock Holmes was in a mood. A sulk, a downer, a funk. Whatever the hell you want to call it, he wasn't happy.

Sherlock either woke at five in the morning or eleven in the morning, there was no normal middle ground. On this lazy Saturday, he rolled his royal arse out of bed at 11:30. His grey eyes were tired and his plump lips pulled down into an irritated frown. 

"Well, well, well. It seems Sleeping Beauty has finally woken. You've missed most of the morning." John said from the kitchen table, holding back a laugh at the detective's disheveled appearance. His clothes were wrinkled and his curly hair stuck up like an abstract sculpture. 

"Hm." Is all Sherlock said in response, making a beeline for the coffee machine. The late mornings reverted him back to an ancient caveman, only speaking in grunts. 

"Good morning to you too." John said before taking a sip of his tea. He would have to wait for Sherlock to have his first two cups of coffee before any conversation could happen. 

As the coffee brewed, Sherlock's cell phone buzzed loud in his pocket. Sherlock's dug it out, glancing at the (too) bright screen. 

"Ugh." He said with a frown, typing out a short reply.

"What is it?" John asked, placing his mug down. 

Sherlock finally broke his oversleep-induced silence. "Mycroft wants me to solve a case for him." Without noticing, Sherlock had grimaced at the mention of his brother.

"Well, that's good, isn't it? You've been bored out of your mind lately. Remember the experiment with the pig skin last night?"

Sherlock, frustrated and bored, had bolted out of the flat and later returned with a massive slab of frozen pig skin. He had then proceeded to stab it with kitchen scissors, taking multiple photos for future reference. 

"What'd you say?" 

Sherlock took a large, greedy gulp of hot coffee before responding. "I told him I didn't care for it."

Somehow, John doubted that Sherlock's text was so politely worded. The phone buzzed again. 

"The fucking bastard!" Sherlock shouted, dropping the phone on the table.

John reached over, picking up the phone to read the message. "Shall I fetch John?", it read, and you could practically feel Mycroft's snide voice within the text.

"He knows! And he just has to be a gloating bastard. It's those bloody cameras!" Sherlock seethed, the tops of his cheekbones flushing pink. 

"Hey, hey, calm down." John said, placing a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. It was certainly odd and pretty creepy that Mycroft had cameras in the flat. 

"Listen, he was bound to find out eventually. It would have been nice if he didn't know so many details, but it's too late for that. Just ignore him and he'll leave you alone about it." John didn't think that was really going to keep Mycroft from teasing but he wasn't exactly going to tell Sherlock that.

Sherlock shrugged off John's hand and grabbed his cup of coffee, slinking off to his room. You could nearly see the dark storm cloud above his head.

\---

John wanted to lift his head to the sky and thank heaven when Lestrade texted a new case. By noon, they were in Lestrade's office, looking over the files of a recent murder. 

"We're thinking these two could be connected." Lestrade said, handing Sherlock a sparse file of an old unsolved case. 

Sherlock skimmed the file, smirking when he saw the obvious connection. Strangled by large hands, hands and feet bound by cloth. Both victims were young, attractive women of about nineteen years old. The only difference was that one was five years old and the other was a week old.

"They are so obviously connected. A two-year old would be able to see it. But it took you a week to figure it out!" He placed the file down onto Lestrade's desk. "Bring up the Lillian Jackson case, it's clear that that one is connected as well." 

"Lillian Jackson? That must have been ten years ago!" Lestrade said, opening the cabinet of homicides. 

"Exactly ten years ago." Sherlock corrected.

"A serial killer with a schedule." John said, glancing down at the files.

"Obviously." Sherlock said, flipping open the Lillian Jackson case. It was exactly the same as the other two cases, down to the smallest details. 

A women entered the office, her hands behind her back and her tanned face bright and alert. She wore bright red lipstick and her dark hair was pulled into a tight bun.

"You called, sir?" She said, her voice cheery. 

"Oh yes, I nearly forgot. This is our newest intern, Mayra." Lestrade said with a gesture. "She'll be observing on this case."

"Criminology with a special interest in homicide. I've heard a lot about you two." She smiled, shaking John's hand. When she offered her hand to Sherlock, he just stood there, eyeing her up and down. 

"Your boyfriend- oh, no, fiancee- is cheating on you with your step-brother. I'd recommend you break it off now. They're going to elope soon anyway. Probably this Friday. You'll fail your exams and end up pregnant and married to the first bloke that comes your way." Sherlock stated, turning back to look at the Lillian Jackson case.

Mayra's large brown eyes widened and her lipsticked mouth dropped open. "Wait, what? H-holy shit, really?" Her voice quivered and her eyes filled with tears. She looked to Lestrade as she rummaged in her bag for her phone. "I-I'm sorry, I've got to make a phone call." She backed out of the office, running off to the bathroom, phone in hand as she struggled to wipe away her tears. 

"Sherlock!" Both John and Lestrade said in unison. 

"What the hell was that?" John shouted, watching as the door to the women's restroom slammed closed. Sherlock's face was innocent as an angel, even though he knew full well what he did was purely mean. John turned to Lestrade, sighing. "Can you give us like, ten minutes to talk and discuss the case?" Sherlock's head darted up, suddenly realizing he had pushed it too far.

Lestrade looked at the two for a second before nodding. "Everyone else has already left for lunch, I'll guess I'll follow suit." He was right, the floor was empty of police. 

John waited until both Lestrade and Mayra left the floor. She sneaked out the restroom, makeup run down her face as she made her way to her car. 

John turned to face Sherlock, arms crossed. He had closed the blinds and shut the door to be safe. "Why'd you do that? She's a nice girl, but you've broken some horrible news to her in one of the worst ways possible."

"I was saving her time. Isn't that kind?" Sherlock said morosely.

"Oh, don't start with that. The tacked on bit about her failing her classes was not kind. It was mean, really mean." 

"She should just accept her future now." Sherlock said, arms crossed to match John's.

"Oh, okay. So that's how you want it. Over the desk, now." John ordered, pointing to the desk. 

"Oh, you're overreacting." Sherlock said with a touch of whine in his voice. Nevertheless, he obeyed, leaning his body over the dark brown desk, propping his arse high in the air. He didn't like this position, his torso pressed hard onto the wood. He felt alone, like John wasn't even there. It made him feel antsy. Suddenly, John placed a comforting hand on his back and he felt better. 

Even though he knew the first smack was coming, it always was a bit of a surprise, a jolt. Sherlock inhaled sharply, and dropped his head down into his crossed arms. Another few swats fell down in the same spot, and Sherlock gasped, rolling his hips from side to side. Then the rhythm started, and Sherlock thought he would die from the continuous metronome of smacks. 

A particularly sharp one landed on his thigh, and he yelped for the first time. "Ah, John!" He whined, stomping his foot on the floor. He kicked the desk once before realizing that probably wasn't a good idea.

"You need to learn to watch your mouth, Sherlock." John said, lightening the volley of smacks. 

"Okay, I will!" Sherlock insisted, his breathing haggard. "I'm sorry."

"Just a few more, alright? You need to apologize to her when we're done." John said before rapidly delivering the last smacks. Why stretch things out any longer than need be?

John patted Sherlock's back kindly. "You can get up now." 

Sherlock's cheeks were pink and his eyes watery. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. 

John gave Sherlock a tight hug."It's okay. It's all over. Clean slate and all." He assured. "When you're ready we can go get lunch. You want some water?" Sherlock nodded, eyes big.

John opened the door to the office, eyes wide as he saw the figure from across the room. Lestrade, standing there, bagel in hand.

John sighed and rubbed at his temple, walking closer to the DI. "How much did you hear?" 

"Enough. I was just coming up to ask if you wanted anything." Lestrade said, clearly thinking hard. 

"I, well. You see..." John didn't exactly know what to say. 

"No need to explain. It actually makes a lot of sense. He obviously needs it." The awkward tension between them was painful."I'm going to go back downstairs." Lestrade said, walking back down the stairs. 

John watched him leave, his brow furrowed as he thought. He later returned to Lestrade's office, completely and utterly forgetting Sherlock's water.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I kinda steamplowed through writing this, as I was in a serious mood to write. I always appreciate the kudos, comments, and constructive criticsim


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